King of Pride (Kings of Sin, #2)(94)
Please just leave.
The memory of Isabella’s anguished voice and face ate at me like acid. I hadn’t talked to her since I left her apartment last week, but she haunted me every second of every day.
Everything reminded me of her—books, alcohol, even the color purple. It was particularly unbearable tonight, when the company’s purple peacock logo adorned everything from the podium to the gift bags at every seat.
I set my jaw and focused on the stage, trying to ignore the agonizing cramp in my chest.
The evening had progressed smoothly so far. Dinner went off without a hitch, and my mother was finishing her speech with remarkable composure. If Leonora Young was upset about ceding control of her family’s company to an outsider, one couldn’t tell by looking at her. Her voice sounded genuinely sincere as she thanked the board and employees for their support during her tenure and introduced Russell onstage.
I knew the truth. Inside, she was incandescent with rage.
My ears were still bleeding from our post-vote call. She didn’t know about Russell’s manipulations and had blamed my loss on Isabella.
I told you she was a distraction…If you had listened to me, you would’ve never lost…Our family name will never recover…
We hadn’t spoken since.
The room greeted her speech with thunderous applause. My mother shook hands with Russell, her face a canvas of carefully constructed professionalism, before walking back to her table.
My hand closed around the stem of my wineglass as Russell took the podium after her to a more muted reception.
Average height, average build, average brown hair and brown eyes. He was the type of person who blended into the background so seamlessly he practically disappeared. I’d dismissed him as a non-threat, but I finally saw his unmemorable facade for what it was: a masterful disguise, honed and perfected over years of operating under the radar.
My skin prickled.
Russell was the one talking, but all eyes were on me, waiting for a reaction I’d never give.
If people wanted a show, they’d get one soon enough. Just not from me.
Across the table, Vivian’s concern—over Isabella, the CEO vote, or both—burned a hole in my cheek. The Russo Group accounted for over fifty percent of our company’s print advertising, so Dante received invites to every important function. He normally declined, but he’d showed up tonight for “the entertainment,” as he called it.
He and Vivian were the guests of honor at my table. Most of the big advertisers were. My mother reigned over a table of board members while Tobias, Laura, and Paxton occupied seats near the stage.
They watched Russell speak with varying expressions of anger, distaste, and contemplation. He hadn’t deemed Laura or Paxton threatening enough to blackmail, but I wondered what they would say when they found out he’d been spying on them.
“I want to give a special thank you to the board members who believed in me…” Russell droned on, unaware his fifteen minutes in the spotlight were about to expire.
I ignored Vivian’s concern and scanned the room. I appreciated her solicitude, but I had one goal and one goal only tonight.
My anticipation spiked when the ballroom’s service door opened and a half dozen servers entered.
Each one carried a stack of menu-sized packets, which they quietly distributed to guests while Russell spoke.
Their reaction came swiftly.
Confusion rippled through the crowd when they received the papers, followed by shocked murmurs.
Russell faltered at the swell of noise but forged ahead. “…promise to execute my duties as CEO to the best of my abilities…”
The murmurs grew louder. People were getting agitated; silverware clinked, bodies shifted, and coughs and gasps punctuated the gathering tension.
“That bastard.” Dante’s soft laugh traveled over the din. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”
I’d given him an overview about the Russell situation last week, but I hadn’t shared the details printed for all the one hundred-odd guests in attendance.
“What’s going on?” Vivian whispered. “I thought this was a handover ceremony.”
“It is, mia cara.” Dante was still laughing. He placed an arm around his wife and kissed the top of her head. “Just not the kind you were thinking of.”
I sipped my wine and returned my attention to the stage. Satisfaction rattled in my chest at the perspiration coating Russell’s face. It’s about to get so much worse for you.
With Christian’s help, I’d put together a special highlight reel of Russell’s transgressions— payments to private detectives; instructions for said detectives to follow board members and high-ranking executives; emails conspiring with Victor, a competitor, to damage my reputation.
The clamor reached a point where it drowned out Russell’s speech.
He finally stopped, his eyes bouncing around the room. A mix of alarm and anger peeked through the cracks of his affable demeanor. “What is this?” he demanded. “What’s going on?”
I typically didn’t relish other people’s misfortune, but in his case, he deserved it.
I smoothed a hand over my tie. At the agreed on signal, the techs dimmed the lights and turned on the projection screen behind Russell.
The earlier slideshow of my mother’s career highlights flipped to photos of Russell and Victor meeting in person. Of the threatening note to Tobias, blown up and sharpened in high resolution. Of similar notes to key board members, coercing them into various votes. He’d had them split their support among himself, Paxton, and Laura so he won by a tiny margin, thereby reducing suspicion.